Hitherto
by Ephemeral Everlast
Summary: Perhaps, in another place and time, they could be together without moral distress, without any thought of notebooks and vengeance. Two-shot, L/Light, dark-themed, AU
1. Staid

_Part 1 of 2. This story has two parts, and though they relate, they also don't. This first part isn't for the faint of heart, for it involves manipulation, a twisted relationship between L/Light that though pains me to write, must come out. Sexual references, lies, malicious intent and plenty of spiritual taint to go around._

_This is a dark story, based on the anime of Death Note, in which both L and Light are emotionally playing one another, from the time Light forgets he is Kira, until the end of what the anime presents. The second part is far more light-hearted and does not involve the concept of doom. This part however, isn't happy at all, and that is expressed with a very dark ending and dual perspectives._

_**Staid- **__of settled or sedate character; not flighty or capricious._

_**Hitherto-**__up to this time; until now_

_I own nothing but this twisted first part, a part that makes my muses look at me funny._

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><p>"<em>I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright. Who art as black as hell, as dark as night." Shakespeare.<em>

Neither of them thought that they were alike in any way. Both of them closed their ears to the way the investigation prided them on their teamwork, on their flawless ability to mesh together, like gears destined for amity. They were clapped on the back, given congratulatory gestures and praised about their mutual symbiosis, beings that thrived off of one another in the name of justice. They didn't listen, for it wasn't the truth.

The truth was a mottled and frayed thing, a concept that was never analyzed until others were gone. When the voices of man couldn't interfere, both of them thought like they hadn't before, on what their investigation partner, on what their lover, signified.

For the one under the alias of L, his theory lay before him, stacked high like the sugar-cubes he placed in the blackest coffee. Everything had a purpose, a driving force behind what made mankind itself. Even with beings who were unintelligent, there was something in their mind, a spark and flare that could come to life at any moment. It just took one little action, a brush of cold finger-tips across golden skin, or the pressing of a candy-laced mouth against pink lips to ignite that catalyst.

The hypothesis was this: every action had a reaction, and all actions had consequences. With the smallest flicker of that flame, a roaring inferno conflagrated into the night, as consequence of heartless passion. Heartless, for L never allowed himself to feel during this process, during this experiment of wits.

To the outside world, Light was viewed as the embodiment of perfection. From the ground up, the presence of a golden-boy was viewed, in the eyes of those that stood in awe of him. From his neatly pressed shirts, to the faint scent of his freshly scrubbed skin, the young man permeated greatness. Had this been Ancient Greece, his face would have easily been carved into the currency of the times, and his auburn hair would have been adorned with a laurel diadem. In Japan however, he was viewed as a young man with a high IQ who wished in earnest, to have a role in catching the mass-murderer known to the world as Kira.

The speeches Light gave were filled with enthusiasm to all untrained ears, with an emphasis on the justice aspect, and that Kira had to be brought to justice, punished for his crimes. These words, no matter how pretty they were, always made L want to double over in laughter. It was so painfully obvious that the younger male was just acting, and though he would have made a brilliant Hamlet, on this stage, L ran the show, the very script. The words were rehearsed, a dull echo of consciousness that thudded through Light's mouth, creating a synchronization of phrases and sentences that were created to be memorable, casting aside any shade of doubt. It was a brilliant act indeed, and L applauded him for effort.

However, there was no disguising the facts, no matter how beautiful the face was that fashioned such lies: Light Yagami was Kira, and there were beings outside of the realm of possibility. Shinigami existed and they brought forth instruments of death for mankind to toy with, to tempt and delight them with musings of power, of walking as gods amongst the lot of man. He knew that beneath the facade of unblemished skin and hazel eyes, there was a sinister creature in Light, waiting for just a hint of moral ambivalence. Once it appeared, once Light doubted humanity and his own good-nature, Kira would be unleashed once more.

L wanted to analyze, witness and find cause for his suspicions. There was a method to restraining the younger male with the hand-cuffs, and though it was bothersome to have Light around him every hour of the day, it would prove well worth the time. He needed to have a single iota of proof, so that soon, that beautiful face would be behind bars for the rest of his life. Besides, once L set his sights on the truth, he was a most unyielding force to reckon with.

And so, he provided a first strike, a consequence that would work both ways. He began heated implications, late in the night when no others were around, and the security cameras were switched off. When others were far too busy drinking their coffees and looking at new evidence, L exchanged several looks with the younger male, revealing to him that had there been no one around, he surely would have thrown him from the chair and had his way with him.

Their first kiss was forceful, yet soft as a brush of feathers against parted lips. Both of their eyes remained open, and as their mouths moved, reveling in the taste of tongue and sugar, it was still a battle of wits. Light's eyes fluttered when L gripped his back gently, applying pressure on Light's hip-bone. But still, the younger man's eyes refused to close.

When all clothes were strewn about and foreplay commenced, both of their eyes shut, if only for a millisecond. Both of them wanted to see who would lose control first, though on the surface it was about tender love-making. Light nipped at his neck, and L made sure to leave many an indention with his fingernails on the younger male's back. They crested above and beyond their climax, and L knew it had everything to do with what he was truly thinking about during their carnal acts. It was not about how he loved the boy, for he didn't. It was not about having excellent sex with him, and then tossing him away. It was about knowing that what he was doing was controlling the beast within Light, the creature that would inevitably come forward very, very soon, with a little more prodding. Lions only lashed out through the bars in which they were caged if they were tempted with meat first, and the same concept applied here.

If he caught that beast before it snarled, he could wire the jaws shut with the muzzle of a life-sentence, which was enough to make L succumb to the throes of pleasure, if only for a little while.

All the while, L was seeing the monster that he bedded, time and time again. Kira was there, as Light moaned in ecstasy against his own body. Kira was there in the glazed-over look in his eye as they rocked together, forming a rhythm that knew no true end. Kira was there every-time L allowed the younger male to dominate him, and as they made each other feel the pinnacle of all sensation, there was far more going on that could be determined at a side-glance.

It wasn't about attraction; it was about control, even if the youth had no idea about it. There was so much more going on beneath the sleep-tossed covers in the middle of the night. Libido was fashioned by governing hands, and the lips that fabricated sweet words. Pleasure rang out on soundless voices, hushed by trembling mouths. They rolled around on the mattress, again and again on a bed of blades that dripped with their life's blood. For, L thought with apathy, this would indubitably result in the end of both of their lives.

Their serial and sometimes mutual climax marked the beginnings of a dark passion-play between the two of them. Soon, the music they shared of equal culpability would swallow them whole. As L allowed his eyes to slip closed, knowing full well his lover was deep in dreams, he wondered if he would wake up in a new realm all together, in a place without end. Every time he woke up and found himself still breathing, L knew he had succeeded.

For now, L knew that he had Light precisely where he wanted him, dangling on the tips of his fingers like a beautiful marionette. Nothing would dissuade him from his course of action, nothing in the least.

When there was no one around, Light pondered what had become of his life up until this point. All of the exams, the studying, and his passion for justice had molded him into the young man that he was on this day, up to this point. He knew that who he was had a large part to do with his father, the Chief of the police force. He saw the way that his father struggled each and every day to make the city a safe place for his family to live in, how all of the long nights and blood-shot eyes amounted to less than nothing on the statistics for crime-rates. He wished there was a way he could help his father when he was younger, but his father just shook his head and clapped him on the back, urging him to get back to his studies.

And study he had. He loved the burning feeling of knowledge, the thirst that was quenched each time he solved a complicated math equation, or finished translating a book in English for extra-credit. Others were in awe of him and sometimes he was asked why he did it, why he was so smart. He simply laughed and said that he enjoyed studying and it was never a burden to look at equations or read in another language. Besides, he didn't want to dally away his time with television, or mindless Internet surfing; what he was doing was bettering his mind, and the future that he would come across would be a bright one.

At least, that was what he had earnestly believed, right up until his final years of high-school. Something changed in his pursuits, in his over-all vision. The people who he called his friends became dull, recycled copies of personalities and forced, awkward smiles. His teacher's lessons became a low-pitched drone in his ears, and though he listened, he knew that he would have a better chance of understanding the material if he was left to his own devices, far away from the distraction of humanity, of the ennui that it brought him.

He wanted to escape his boredom, the vicious cycle that had become of his life. Wake-up, stretch, eat something healthy or miss breakfast all together, sit in lessons, go to tennis practice, dodge the lingering looks from his class-mates, force conversations, walk home while reading a book that he found partially interesting...it was all the same.

And then, he managed to find himself as a part of an organization to stop the mass-murderer, christened by all the world as "Kira." This killer thought that he could just kill off people, one at a time, reigning an unrestrained judgment to the world as they saw fit. Now this was interesting. There was something about catching this criminal, about winning against this unknown foe that clung to the shadows that made Light's heart race and his pulse pound in his veins. The thought of being a part of something so brilliant, so fulfilling gave his life new direction.

The funny thing about finding direction however, was in realizing that a mistake had been made along the way. His partner-in-arms whom he had spent so long hand-cuffed to, made a roommate and frayed his patience on a daily basis was beginning to look at him differently. It began with a few stray looks, a few lingering glances as they analyzed evidence and debated over possible scenarios with their gathering of clues. Once, as he licked the whipped-cream off of a hot-chocolate that Watari prepared for him, he caught L staring at his mouth out of his peripheral vision. Light took a sip, closed his eyes, and wondered just what L was envisioning in that sharp mind of his.

He found out weeks later when everyone was long gone, Watari had retired for the night, and Light insisted on looking over some files with L, one final time. All they were doing was scanning names and data, looking for any possible clues. Light was willing to do just about anything to clear his name, for he was disgusted that L thought Kira and him were the same person.

It just took a brushing of their hands, chilled and tapered fingers against the warmth of his hand to send him into another plane of living entirely. There was desire in their bodies, a symbiotic jarring that wanted to be fulfilled, lest it shatter the very foundation of their lives. Their mouths met in a tangling of lips, in an awkward meshing of mouths. Tongues clashed, hands ensnared themselves in pitch-black hair, and they took each other several feet away, on a couch that their co-workers always sat on.

After that, something started to feel different about the sex, about the carnal-driven tendencies of their bodies. They spoke in heated whispers about what they felt, about how a pair of lips there and two fingers there inspired in them high degrees of satisfaction. But it was all on the surface, all a living game of actions and scripts, one that L was controlling. When others claimed that they were working together, better than ever, both of them knew better. It had everything to do with how high the stakes had been placed, and how their actions were leading to a consequential aftermath that would know of an end, very soon.

It was rather brilliant when, the day after Light realized that epiphany that he remembered who he was, and how his volition on life changed. He remembered the smooth surface of the black notebook, how it thrilled him to write names on the pages of the Death Note, time and again, ridding humanity of the evil that had slipped through the cracks in the justice system. He remembered Ryuk's incessant laughter, his details, and the way that he was on neither side, no matter how interesting the show proved to be. And above all, he knew a way to get rid of L, to get rid of the adversary that was standing right in his way.

The night before he knew L was set to die by his hand, they made love with a ferocity that stole his breath. He felt as if he was trapped in the fabric of a lightning storm, every sense and pore filtering light and endless heat. Light knew what that represented: on this night, everything that made Light Yagami Light Yagami was dying, and the escaping of the warmth served as a physical swan-song of his actions. Justice would come over him in his dreams, drenching him in the current of judgment, and Kira would look at the world with new eyes, forging a new world by the might of his own hands. Light Yagami as the world knew him, would be dead.

But for now, they lay together, whispering and speaking in low-tones, just like they had done before. L was to his right, kissing his shoulder-bone every so often, and Light gripped L's cold fingers in his own, knowing that tomorrow night, he would be sleeping alone, without his enemy and best-friend, without his lover and only adversary.

"We'll see each other tomorrow," L whispered, the shutting of his eye-lids against Light's shoulder representing how deeply L fabricated his trust of him.

"Yeah," he managed to say "tomorrow. Get some rest, L. We'll see each other soon."

It was as if there was a goddess in the room with them as they slept. Both knew what the next day would represent, what the following sunrise and rain-fall would mean for the both of them. The goddess etched the words onto a golden scroll, writing the words in a flowing script with a golden-quill. A curse was formed then, of inevitable meetings and living duality to fulfill those words.

L Lawliet died the following day, and his body was placed in an unmarked grave. From the MU, from the shadows of the ether that ensnared all of mankind, he waited. Some of the spirits, the ones that had physical form wandered around aimlessly, shouting on voices that weren't voices that their loved ones were waiting, both over and beyond the rainbow. All nonsense on tongues that weren't tongues.

But anger and the right to appease his wrath would come very, very soon. He just had to wait for his little lover, for the one who no one else suspected but him to have a wrong moment. All the time he stood patiently, gathering his memories and thoughts, collecting them the way that a thief stole a scattering of coins, standing for years and years, waiting and watching. He hoped that Light could _feel_ the way his eyes were boring in the back of his head, the way that the shadows always seemed a little bit menacing when he was walking around at night, or in his hotel room. He wished that, every time he made mindless love to Misa, or to Takada, that he would never be satisfied and always found himself disgruntled. For, little murderers were never supposed to be happy when ghosts lingered.

And then, the hour of judgment chimed, thundering through his rib-cage like a literal jarring to his soul. With every slice of the minute hand, L knew that Light's time was coming to a close, and that the curtain would fall in tatters without any thought of standing ovations and roses.

L willed himself to come forth, through the mesh that held the MU together in a mess of stitching and he walked into the Yellow Box, knowing fully of the scene that would take place. There was Mikami, making a fool of himself on the ground, disillusionment hitting his heart like a well-timed whip to the face, scarring his existence for the rest of what remained of his life. Near was there as well with the notebook and L felt a need to tell his the one who succeeded him that he needed to get rid of it immediately, lest it taint his own mind-set.

And there, like a mad-Hamlet, was his once lover and friend, bleeding on the ground. L longed to sink down to Light's level, to sneer in his face and ask him in a voice of thunder and crashing waves how it felt to know that you were mortal at last. The taste of mortality was that of copper and ashes, guzzled down with a mixture of arsenic and a dash of salt. Sins always did have a way of catching up to everyone.

Somehow, miraculously, Light managed to stand. He laughed and laughed, and with the faint glow of the light-bulbs in the warehouse, his eyes gleamed red for a moment, flashing like the murderous eyes of a grim-reaper, sent to hack down souls with his scythe.

For the briefest moment, L felt something like pity hit his breast, the place where a heart once beat. No. His heart was nothing more than the food for maggots and worms, holed through again and again by a Shinigami's hand, and a malicious student's will. L had no heart, not anymore.

Light ran and L urged for others to follow him, no matter what they would see. On legs that weren't legs at all, L wavered and watched his once partner running, gripping his injured shoulder and body, nearly limping into the fading twilight. L had the time to conjure a little ability with his time in the MU, just for this moment. L willed for a corporeal form of Light to cross the side-walk with him, a grim parallel of who he was up until the sham of a man he was now. No. This was no man that was fleeing from people who he had once worked with. This was a misguided soul, possessed and taken over by the evil of his own mind, the evil of his intentions. Light was nothing more than the rot of humanity, and he would be dead very, very soon.

But not just yet.

Light fell on the steps, and in the spatters of leaking blood coating his face and torso, he looked like something out of a macabre painter's dream. His eyes were glazing over, the hazel that had once so infatuated L, but they refused to close. It was almost as if he was expecting for help to come, for a forgiving hand to reach through the world between the worlds and give him a second chance, another opportunity to right the wrongs.

Now was L's turn to hold back laughter. If Light truly thought there was such a thing as second chances, he was truly mistaken and not as bright as others had once proclaimed.

Hazel eyes opened wide and L knew what Light was seeing between the rafters: a spectral form in a loose-fitting white shirt, wrinkled jeans, and the same hunched position that he always wore. He was not here to mock him at this moment, but to take him. It all depended on when the Shinigami decided to write Light's name in his own notebook.

Eyelids opened wide, dark lashes fluttered, and the faintest ghost of a smile lingered on Light's lips. It was almost as if he was pleased to see L, one final time, even if he believed it to be a figment of his imagination.

The body would remain, but the soul was tethered, a writhing and spectral thing that began drifting, up and up into the black night. L wouldn't let that happen.

With a primal snarl, L snatched at it, heedless of Light's screams that were truly his own, screams of fury and the anticipation of pain, of a hell with the man he had killed.

They tumbled down and down, into the passion-play they created. The curtains closed, the music of the instruments faded away, and a single rose fell from up above, landing on the wooden stage.

They would meet again, sooner than they knew.

**End of Part I**


	2. Analgesic

_Part 2. This is significantly happier than part 1, and this is as close to a good ending as I can give these two. If you haven't noticed by now, I'm really intrigued with the thought of there being more on these characters, more than the anime conveys. These characters are powerful to me, too powerful to fade away in death. This part was made purposefully longer to convey more depth in three different scenarios that lead up to the conclusion of the "play" I keep mentioning._

_This part takes place in an alternate universe, without the notebook and Kira, in a place where both L and Light can have a place in one another's lives without worrying about who's playing who and simply, be together. Rated for mature romantic themes but nothing as bad as what I conveyed last time with scary beyond-the-grave L._

**Analgesic**-_a remedy that allays all pain_

_I own nothing - aside from the way my muses are somewhat content with me for this part of the story._

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><p><em>'Less shame,' my master said to me, 'makes clean far greater fault than yours has been. And so cast off the weight of all your misery. Consider well. I'm always by your side."-Dante's Inferno, Virgil to Dante, Canto 30<em>

The first time they met one another was under very ordinary circumstances. Best-friends always spoke of how they met each other at a playground, swinging one another high on swing-sets and racing in the grass, laughing and getting into mischief in the golden years. It was the easiest way to get to know someone.

For Light, that was how he had come to know the one who called himself by a letter. It was the first month of second grade, and classes had just been released for the break between lunch and the next math lesson. The need to soak up the sunlight and bask in the fresh-air was strong, and with his group of friends, the time seemed endless.

That was until he happened to notice the boy who was reading against the brick wall. In the midst of the bedlam of rushing bodies that ran for the basketball hoops, the jump-ropes, and the plethora of chalk-sticks, there was one boy who remained immobile, impassive and uncaring of the chaos around him. Light couldn't see the color of his hair, or make out his features from across the playground. All he saw was a pair of pressed flannel pants, the tan color of the school-uniform, and leather loafers that the book-worm kept shifting his feet in, as if he was uncomfortable with having them on.

"What a weirdo, reading like that," one of Light's friends commented. Light turned to face his group of friends, knowing what he would say would first be shot-down, but then be celebrated later with the thought of a new play-mate.

"Let's invite him over." Moans of protest about how a book-worm would look stupid hanging on their group died when Light narrowed his eyes. These friends of his were his neighbors and class-mates, and all of their mothers knew one another, and somewhere along the road of their friendship, he was appointed as their leader. "I mean it. How would you feel if you were all alone without friends, stuck with a big book for company? It's just not right to leave someone all alone like that."

Insults meant in jest were hurled at him, but Light countered them with retorts of his own, and the promise that if the book-worm didn't want to come over, he didn't have to and that would be the end of that. His friends agreed, but Light was already halfway across the asphalt to speak with the boy who hid behind the book.

He waved to a few of the pretty girls who shyly called out to him, and before long, there were no obstacles between him and the young boy who he had been so intent on making his friend. Shyness was never a quality he possessed, nor was cowardice.

"Hey there." Light crouched to the boy's level, and he was met with swirling gray-eyes that contrasted against the white of the pages of the book said boy was reading. A shock of black hair that spilled up and over the boy's head was seen and within moments, the book was dropped on the reader's lap.

"Hello." That was it, the only word out of the boy. Light's father always told him to be polite, and when Light's father was polite and meeting new people, he extended his hand for a firm-handshake. Light would do the same.

"I'm Light Yagami from Shiratori-sensei's class, it's a pleasure to meet you." Light stuck out his hand and gave a genuine smile, finding the boy interesting. From his wide-eyed look to the unkempt way his shirt was buttoned, Light found him unique at a full first glance. The book-worm with the unwavering eyes looked at the hand, almost as if he expected for small little mouths with teeth to form where his finger-tips were and gobble him whole. Then, the boy's entire expression changed. It was as if all of the tension that was held inside the boy's body evaporated and Light was left exchanging casual pleasantries with just another student.

The boy shook his hand, and his grip was firm and strong, which reminded Light of the way his father shook his hand sometimes. "I'm Lawliet but call me L, everyone does. Even my teacher, Yamaguchi-sensei calls me L." That was one of the strangest things Light had ever heard. And he loved it. Everyone's name around this school was very inventive, filled with meanings and parents who took the time to name their child something ideal. But for this boy, for the one he had christened as "book-worm" before he even knew his name, he was a little different. Differences were beautiful his mother always told him, and making a difference was even more beautiful.

"L. I like that, it suits you." Light exchanged a genuine smile with the boy and helped him to his feet. "Well L, why are you all by yourself over here? My friends and I were wondering if you wanted to come play with us, or something." L blinked a few times, gripped his book in one hand, and glanced around the playground. There were children scrambling over the iron jungle-gym, girls who were screaming and running from boys who brought rubber-snakes outside with them, and all around them was noise, noise and voices.

But from here, from the way L chose to position himself against the brick wall, there was a little pocket of peace among the chaos of the playground. In other schools, students who didn't want to be around others didn't necessarily have to. But in this school, Light knew why L didn't remain inside: the rule of recess. For at least half an hour, the students had to be with their class-mates in the open-air, mingling with others in a physical camaraderie. It was exercise and no one was exempt from it, unless the student was sick or needed to make-up an exam. Though they had only just met, Light had a feeling that L wasn't the sort of person to lie about an illness just to avoid other people. No, the boy seemed braver than that.

"Sure. I'd like to meet your friends." There was no mistaking the courage in that voice, nor was there any question about the hesitation in those gray-eyes. L more than likely thought that he was plotting something, that he was just a typical run-of-the-mill bully who loved to prey on students who he'd never met before. There was no collusion, no evil scheme to beat him up behind the jungle-gym; Light just wanted, in earnest, to befriend the boy.

"L, I'm not going to try anything. If my friends bother you, leave them to me, alright? They listen to me for some reason." They began the steady walk back to the playground, all the while L brought his book in tow.

L said something that Light couldn't quite catch, and he asked him to repeat his statement. "I said, they listen to you because they like you. You're a leader, a pied-piper among your friends." Light blinked a few times, vaguely remembering the legend of the flute-playing young man who played a merry-tune and gathered up his mice friends.

"Thanks. I just need to make my own rules sometimes." The introductions were awkward, but once a game of groundies was suggested, any implication of rocky-starts was smoothed over by the mid-morning sunlight. With the game groundies, the boys pretended that the ground beneath them was off-limits by a stretch of their imagination: there was a massive hole underneath them, shifting-lava, or perhaps, monsters in the gravel. The counter was exempt from this rule however, and they had to count to fifty and walk around the small area of the playground, searching for their play-mates. L was chosen to count during the fourth round and despite Light's flawless hiding place - flawless at the time - L found him first within a few minutes.

Light had managed to balance his entire body on the monkey-bars, and he lay sprawled on his stomach, gripping the frame-work. He was unconcerned with any trouble he might get into for he knew that unless he was dangling off the edge, balanced by only one foot, he would walk away unscathed by any thought of suspension and detention. Of course, when L spun around and tilted his head back like a blood-hound who had caught a scent, any thought of emerging the victor in the game crashed to splinters.

L walked over to the monkey-bars, guided by his hand. He gripped the bars and walked ever-forward, his eyes narrowing beneath the lids with intense concentration. Light held his breath, not daring himself to move, to do anything but gaze through the bars as if his very life depended on it. The point of the game was that if so much as a finger touched you of the one who sought the others, that person was automatically out.

Shakily, Light released a breath, wondering if L would notice. L stopped in his tracks then, looked up at him with closed eyes and suddenly, jumped up and grasped the monkey-bars. His finger-tips grazed Light's forearms and L opened his eyes, blinking to refocus them. Light almost felt disappointed in his hiding place, but the moment his eyes locked with those wide, gray-eyes and he saw the way that L beamed up at him, all thoughts of anger dissipated on his volition to make the boy his friend.

"I don't get it," Light commented, all the while swinging down from the jungle-gym "How'd you find me?" L scratched the back of his his head and after a moment, answered his question.

"I heard you. You took a deep breath, and I just knew someone was above me. That's all." Light shrugged and clapped L on the back a few times. That was what he had seen his father do for his male-friends at his work when they deserved praise. L bristled under the touch and tensed, almost flinching away. Instantly, Light took back his hand. He wasn't sure why L didn't like contact, but he would keep that in mind.

"Sorry, I just thought you deserved a congratulations." L blinked a few times and the confusion on his face was curious, thought-inspiring. Light figured it had something to do with the fact that he had included him in the game, but it was more than that. If anything, it was about the very nature of celebrating victory.

"A congratulations?" Light nodded.

"Yeah, yeah for finding me. I'm usually pretty good at this game. I'm the hardest to catch, right guys?" An echo of replies thundered back at Light's ears and they made his new friend's lips twitch in a partial smile. That was all Light needed for reassurance, for the reassurance that L felt welcome in their group.

_llllll_

The second time that they ran into each other was in passing, years later. L couldn't even believe that he remembered the name of the boy, much less a minor memory that they had shared, eight years previously.

There was no mistaking it: Light Yagami was stuck in traffic not ten feet away from him, the Light Yagami from all those years ago.

The young boy who radiated self-confidence and a natural born leadership was still there, emulating off of the now young man in the driver's seat of what looked like a very nice car. L was certain that if he touched the window of his limousine that he would retract his hand just as soon as it brushed the glass, for he would sense some of the young man's charisma even through the metal and leather.

L honestly couldn't believe he had remembered the young boy. No, that was wrong. He couldn't believe he had forgotten about him. He prided himself on his sharp reflexes, on the way he tackled himself into his pre-college essays and books with ease. But above all, he never forgot a face, or the memory that came with it.

Somewhere in the midst of the years, in the cloistering of physics and his philosophies, he had forgotten about the genuine kindness of a young boy who approached him at a school's playground. For a full year L had attended a prestigious private school in Japan, one that was said to have excellent education and a brilliant gathering of teachers to sculpt the young minds into the world's next leaders. Granted, that wasn't in the pamphlets for the parents, but this school was for intelligent young children, those who had placed into the school by means of a challenging entrance exam. The exam had only taken him half an hour, and afterwards, the Dean of the school himself came to shake Watari's hand to congratulate him on how brilliant his grandson was.

L had never been into making friends, or staying around people for long periods of time. It wasn't that the other students were mean to him, or that he was being bullied; he just didn't like spending a lot of time with people. People only complicated matters and kept him from his books, from reading on his favorite subjects: history, science, and above all, laws. He liked the thought of there being men out there who were taking the means to make the world a better place, men in suits and ties with leather briefcases who would go to any lengths to prove that the accused was guilty, or not guilty. The world of books was his own, and he reveled in it whenever he had the chance.

For a full three weeks he had managed to stay on a different side of the playground, away from all of the screaming girls with jump-ropes and the boys with their loud basketballs. On a certain Monday of the fourth week however, all of that changed. The spot that he was normally in, a small little crevice that held basketballs was filled with iron-cages that were used for the afternoon sports for P.E class for the older children. There was no place for him there, no place for a small boy with a big book to squeeze in and lose himself in the pages.

So he took his chances against the brick wall. On any other day he would have searched and searched for a place to be, a place that wasn't so noisy and filled with so many moving bodies. but on this day he didn't feel the need to hide or inconvenience his own comforts for the sake of his surroundings. He simply propped his book onto his lap, flipped open to a current page, and began reading.

Not five minutes after his decision he was sharing introductions with a boy he had never seen before. Instead of being annoyed at the disturbance, L found himself strangely drawn to the boy. It was as if the entirety of the stranger's being radiated warmth, a light that made all who surrounded him gravitate towards him unconsciously. However, it all could've been an act, a nice-guy bravado that revealed a darker intent of bullying and name-calling. Just because L had been lucky this far at his new school didn't mean that the luck would continue.

Almost as if the boy, this Light Yagami from Shiratori-sensei's class could hear his thoughts, Light reassured him that there was no such plot. He just earnestly wanted to talk to him, to get to know him for a bit of playground camaraderie before class resumed. L had never really enjoyed recess, not because he had no one to play with, but because of the obligation of the rule of playing. He wanted to be the one to decide to jump in with others; it couldn't be decided for him.

L agreed and he found himself fifteen minutes later ambling about, searching for his new comrades in a game of blindness and sensory filtering. Hearing was important, for it would determine the crunching of gravel beneath polished loafers, the bated breath of exhilaration. He hated to lose even trivial games of checkers, much less in front of strangers who were watching his every move. Even at ten-years-old, L knew who he would remain for the rest of his life: a winner in the craft of friendly games.

Still, he had no idea how he had managed to find Light so quick. There was darkness all around his eyelids and sunlight filtered through the edges of his eyes, creating blooming spots of red and yellow every so often. He found himself gripping the edge of the monkey-bars and he waited, listening for any sign that one of his playmates was on the infrastructure.

He heard a sharp intake of breath and the sound seemed to become an echo in his mind. That breath tumbled over and over his aural cavity, back into his brain-stem, and it caused his body to simply react. L stopped in his tracks, bent his knees and jumped up at the monkey-bars. His fingers glided over smooth skin and he opened his eyes, knowing he was victorious.

Instead of being a sore-loser about it, Light simply congratulated him by patting him on the back. No matter the cause of Light's benign personality, he still didn't like to be touched. It was as if others were invading his own personal space, coming into a place where they weren't welcome. That sensation of intrusion was magnified if it was a stranger touching him. Instantly Light retracted his hand and the innocent-vibe came back into the day, made all the more perfect with the next few recesses.

A year passed and he told his friends that he was moving to England, to a school there that wanted him. All of his friends in Light's group were disappointed but he knew the one most affected was Light. Since Light had found him first and was the first to include him, he was the one who took it the hardest. L promised that he'd write to him or call him when he could, but then Light shook his head.

"No, it's alright. This is going to sound stupid but if we see each other later on, at a school or something, then we'll have a lot to catch up on. If we're meant to stay friends, we will, okay?" L knew that Light was being completely genuine with his speech, no matter if it had been said in private at the expense of his pride and leadership with his friends. Light wasn't trying to opt out of the friendship they shared, though it would've seemed that way at first if anyone was within earshot. No, this was about something far deeper than that. This move was a test of their friendship, to see if time would permit them to see one another again, at another place.

The words were poignant and heartfelt as well as the truth: if they were meant to see one another again, it would happen. L didn't believe in fate and he knew that Light didn't either. But whatever force fueled the universe, be it ever-moving atoms in space or flitting matter that coalesced into the ripple of time, it was out of their hands now.

That seemed very, very silly right then, as L watched Light from the back seat of his limousine. Watari was at the wheel and he had reported that the traffic was backed up for a mile east due to a terrible car-crash that had taken place. The estimate was fifteen more minutes and there would be movement on the road. They were taking one of the many highways in Japan to get home, for L had a lot of packing to do. He had become accepted at Harvard University and in a month's time, he would be attending school there for four full years, or six to eight depending on the depth of his ambition.

L wondered, with the barrier of glass and iron that separated him from Light right then, what his plans were for life. Was he still a leader with those who loyally followed his direction and guidance? Had he become jaded at some point in his life, bitter to the point of being unable to smile? Or perhaps tragedy had befallen him, an accident with his parents or his younger sister whom L found pure-hearted? There were a lot of questions to ask, and the only way he would find answers was to physically find out.

"Watari, Light Yagami's to the right of us." His grandfather looked to the immediate right and gave a small smile.

"Well I'll be, Light Yagami. That young boy from all those years ago. Your first friend." First friend indeed. Those two words had not been spoken in a lie, on a tongue that was used to fabricating stories for the sake of making others feel better about themselves. He had nothing to gain from lying to the one who was the first to show him earnest kindness in a place where he was nothing but a stranger.

People like that, those with good intentions were hard to find in this world. Granted, such emotions, kindness and benign acts were everywhere and yet no where that the eye could discern.

He owed it to Light to speak with him. L rolled down his window, cleared his throat, and then began waving madly to get Light's attention. It took several minutes of making a fool of himself before Light finally turned his gaze towards L's direction. Light turned his head to the left and with the bands of sunlight that fell on the road in a scattering of gold ribbons, he looked ever the leader. His eyes were the same light-hazel, a honey-color that clashed brilliantly with his naturally highlighted hair. From this space it was hard to make out what his old friend was wearing, but L knew that it was a suit of some kind and more than likely, flawless.

Light appeared to be chuckling as he rolled down his window. "L from Yamaguchi-sensei's class?"

"Light Yagami from Shiratori-sensei's class?" Both exchanged a nod and the smiles they exchanged were genuine.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" Light glanced at the unmoving flow of traffic and then made the motion of unbuckling his seat-belt. "Ten years this coming September?"

"Yes, ten years. How have you been?" L shifted his sitting position to where he was leaning forward on his knees, just so that he could get a better look at Light. Yes, Light was indeed dressed in a suit the color of darkened mahogany and his tie was scarlet against a tan work-shirt.

"I've been well. I'm the top of my class in Japan and I'm attending college in the fall. I was just taking my father's car back from an internship I'm a part of." Light's entire demeanor changed then, all of a sudden. The natural confidence seemed to drain out of him with the sagging of his shoulders. "L, about what I said when I was a kid...that was stupid of me. I missed you and I constantly kicked myself for not getting your phone number, or your address. My mom probably would have let me visit you." The sheepish grin that came to Light's lips made L realize two things: one, they would meet again, and two, Light was correct on their choice they made as children.

"Don't be too concerned. We were children and mistakes were made, things were said. Besides, I don't believe in fate. You're here with me right now and that's what I know." They talked about trivial things for the remaining fifteen minutes and Light revealed that he would be going to a business school in Japan, one that was top-notch and would open doors for him later on in his life. L revealed how in England he had graduated early and had spent the remainder of his senior year touring colleges in his thirst for academic greatness.

"Harvard? That's terrific L! I actually might go there, once I hear back from them." If they came across each other through university, then there was no mistaking the thought of a rekindling of friendship.

Quickly, Light jotted something down on a scrap piece of paper, and there was no missing the excitement that permeated off the young man, almost as if his delight in seeing L had made his entire day. Though L knew his own personal happiness on seeing his childhood friend wasn't seen on his face by outside eyes, he knew that Light didn't miss his contentment.

"Call me, alright? I'd love to hear from you." Light reached out the window and dangled the piece of paper out towards him, reaching in the most ungraceful manner L had ever seen. For a moment Light was unperfect, a human being who was confident and spoke well yes, but was willing to stick his hand out the window and bend his body in unnatural positions for the sake of exchanging numbers. "Or...don't." L gripped the paper and felt his left eyebrow raise of its own volition. "This is going to sound crazy, but if we're meant to remain friends, we will."

L looked down at the piece of paper, met Light's eyes, and shredded the information into strips. He tossed them out the window and the light breeze made the pieces dance, as if in a parallel time, there was a celebration taking place, filled with confetti and laughter.

"Yes, we are crazy. See you soon?"

"Yeah, see you soon L. It might be sooner than you think."

_llllll_

Two years later, in one of the most mentally stimulating classes Light had ever attended, he thought he had met his match in a battle of minds. It was his first semester at Harvard University for Law and he was right in the middle of a debate class, one in which the professor insisted on admitting cold-calls to all those who were unsuspecting. Cold-calls were a constant challenge in which a student at random was called on to explain the lesson that the professor was attempting to teach the students. Several times Light was picked, and several times he had been given fierce acknowledgment from all those in the room. He knew his material and he was among others who loved learning and justice as much as him.

But on this day the professor decided to do something a little differently, without warning anyone. The students filtered into the lecture hall and found the entirety of the room divided by a large black sheet that tumbled down from the rafters, looking very much like a curtain on a stage, dividing the audience to the members of a play. Through the means of loud-speakers over an intercom system, the rules were explained. Light found himself in the middle of a two hour long experiment that would change the way he thought about justice, about the world entire. Or, so the professor's voice claimed through a safe distance away. He was more than likely sipping hot coffee and enjoying the way his students were caught off-guard Light surmised, for he would be doing the same thing had he been the professor. What better way to teach a lesson than making students live through it?

The experiment was simple: on the left side of the room, the side Light found himself a part of, he was for the case that would be presented. On the right side of the room the students were fiercely against the presented case. Neither had a say in whether or not they approved or disapproved with the sides that had been chosen for them; they had to wrap their mind around a specific frame of thought, another perspective.

Everyone had a seat, and the imaginary scenario was revealed and it was just that: imaginary. The case was this: if you happened across a notebook, one that could kill the name of a person by writing their first and last name in the pages, all the while having their name in mind, would they do it? Said person -the one that Light had no choice but to be in favor of - was called Kira by the world, and this being would use the notebook as means of scrutinizing and implicating firm and uncompromising judgment to all. If said person was a criminal, Kira would write their name in a notebook and they would fall victim to a heart-attack.

Everyone on Light's side of the room was floored by the scenario presented. Once the trill of the professor's voice died down, they were left to freely discuss amongst themselves the best way to argue in favor of this Kira person, this imaginary being that believed himself to be a god. Light had no idea why he thought that a man was capable of committing such heinous acts, but that was the first thing that came to his mind. Women were just as willing to cause crimes, but Light simply pictured a man, one that was well dressed, all the while gripping a black notebook in his hand. He continued to picture said man towering over a building, looking down on the world with a sneer, as if he couldn't believe that his own self-perfection had been born into a world so...rotted.

Light always prided himself on his imagination, but that mental imagery sent him reeling back a few mental steps. Now was not the time to get carried away with extended metaphors; now was the time to craft an argument.

For the next hour, Light and his colleagues came up with a debate on why this being chose to do what he did. All the causes rang true and the argument had all of the main points, along with justification through means of psychology and family history. Light wasn't about pitying a being that he found to be inarguably guilty of crimes that were worthy of a life sentence in prison, but for now, he had to remain effusive on the matter. Technically, this man could have been temporarily insane, overwrought with the power of the notebook. Power corrupted man, especially when it lent them the powers that not even gods could maintain.

The over-head speakers came on, and both sides gave their argument with their loudest voices, Light being the last to speak in his team. He stated that the being was attempting to make the world a better place with his methods, no matter how dire they might have been, and that temporary insanity definitely could have played a huge factor with the man known as Kira.

The most quipping statement that uprooted any thought of Light's team winning the argument was what everyone was thinking in the room, what all those on Light's side dared not to say: at the heart of this mission was murder. Taking lives was and always would continue to be illegal until the court systems changed, but there was no mistaking the moral and ethical reasoning: passing judgment and killing others based on how cruel their intentions were in life was a vigilante killing, the latter word being the cause of interest. Death was death, murder was murder, and that was all there was to it.

At the end of the exercise, the professor announced that both sides had won and that there would be no class the following day, due to the severity and intensity of the exercise. The lot of Light's classmates left the room shaking their heads, all the while gripping their belongings with trembling fingertips.

It was then that Light noticed that in the room, clear across the other side of the lecture hall, was L. He was there, speaking among a few classmates with earnest interest, looking like one of the disciples of Socrates midst the desks and carpeted stairs. Light didn't believe in fate, but this was certainly one hell of a day to reunite with an old friend.

They exchanged pleasantries and walked out together, all the while talking in animated tones about what they had been up to. L was thinking about going into investigative journalism, especially for the sake of court reporting. Something about the courtroom, the gavel and the visceral energy of justice was enough to make him a happy man. For Light, he revealed that he wished to be a lawyer and defend clients and make sure that justice saw through to the end.

And then the exercise was brought up. L and Light were on the same side, completely against the imaginary character known to the world as Kira. L couldn't believe how monstrous the character was, a being that thought himself a god that could freely pass judgment on mankind. Light agreed with him...until the mental image flashed in his mind once again, behind his eyelids. He stated that he understood where Kira was coming from: the mission to right wrongs and to make criminals vanish with the blessing of death.

"Kira sounds like an anti-hero to me, someone who you could read about in a comic book or something, a character you could relate with and sympathize for. I don't know L, if I saw such a book in a store, I'd probably buy it." The horror that flashed through his friend's face was enough to make Light realize that he had said something that was very, very against L's code of morals, the very fiber of who he was in his entirety. Though Light had said only his opinion and the final part in jest, it was as if he had physically slapped L across the face.

From then on in that debate class, they did everything they could to make themselves rivals in academia. If Light chose to side in favor of the case, L went against him with every mental rebuke, every implicit backlash that could be spoken. The professor encouraged this with his students, but Light knew that their teacher had no idea how deep this friendly challenge ran.

During the middle of the semester, Light chose to end the rivalry, for he was sick of constantly being scrutinized in such a way by someone that had used to be his friend. He had no idea why L was taking this so seriously, this imaginary character and the scenario involved months previous, but he'd had enough.

In the middle of a debate when L was all but holding the classroom in awe of both his way of speaking and the way that he staged his argument, Light chose to agree with him. He felt his cheeks burn with the chagrin of spoken mistakes, and his tongue felt swollen in his throat, as if his entire mouth was swathed with cotton. But still, he admitted to the entire room that L was right and then he politely packed up his things, leaving the classroom for the day. The professor had a rule that stated that if a student felt too compelled to ease themselves into the argument and they couldn't restrain themselves from acting out, be it verbally or physically, they could leave the room.

Light wasn't feeling in the least bit interested in tackling L to the ground and rearranging his face; he was just tired of what their friendship had become. It seemed as if there was a ceaseless charade of competition that was masking itself as classroom rivalry. He had tapped into an unknown facet of L's personality, a part of him that hated the thought of tarnished justice, even in a made-up sense.

Later on that week, L confronted him after class, though the confrontation was only for apologetic terms. Light never thought that he would get so much as a passing glance from L again, much less a genuine show of guilt and deterrence. This was the first time that L looked so unbound in public, showing emotion in front of the other students in the hallways.

L had caught up to him as he was walking up the steps, and he asked him if he would speak with him quickly, if he had a moment. Light checked his watch: he had a full thirty minutes before his next class, and L had a full hour. He agreed and they found themselves walking side by side, attempting to make conversation to fill the silence. Light had no idea why L was acting so out of sorts, but he was determined to find out, and to uncover the answers on why he had become so baleful in the classroom. It was as if he was taking personal jabs at who Light was as a person.

"So, can you explain to me what the past months have been about? I mean, I didn't exactly expect for you to be so hostile to me for the sake of a grade. We're both ambitious and we strive for the best, but there's something beneath all that, isn't there?" L nodded and the words that tumbled out of L's mouth came from quivering lips, from a shaking form.

"You're going to think I'm a little crazy." Beside himself, Light laughed. Quickly he clapped L on the back, set his books on the ground, and leaned against the wall.

"Try me. I don't care if you're crazy; I just want to know what's up with you." Light had no idea what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

"For the past few months, far before I knew that you attended this school, I began having strange dreams that centered around you." Gray-eyes locked onto inquiring hazel, and L continued. "In these dreams, they all begin the same way. We're working on a case together, I as a detective and you as my partner. We're investigating Kira, a man who has a plan to rid the world of evil by means of a killer notebook, and a creature that comes from the netherworld to help him. We become close friends, very close." There was no disguising the way that L's breath quickened all of a sudden, nor did it help that a hint of color splashed over his cheekbones. L had dreamed they were lovers. "We began a relationship in secrecy, one that other members of our investigation never knew of. Ours was not a loving relationship, built on a foundation of truth: we were manipulating the other, for in a twist, you were Kira, Light Yagami." L placed his thumbnail on his lower lip, and he began nibbling it every so often, as if deep in thought. "We wound up killing one another, and at the very end of the dream, I came back to haunt you on your deathbed. I dragged you to a place that was not hell nor heaven, but somewhere vacuous yet filled, endless and yet closed off, an ether filled with nothing."

Light blinked a few times and was about to laugh the whole story off when he noticed something: the dark circles under L's eyes. In the entire time that he had known L, L had always gotten plenty of rest, no matter how intriguing his books proved to be. That meant that something was keeping him up, something awful and thought provoking.

In that moment, Light instantly forgave everything that had transpired between them. He realized that L's rivalry with him had been based on fear, based on a re-occurring dream that was affecting his performance in every aspect of his life. Fear could do terrible things to the body.

"Hey, look at me. When's the last time you had a full night's sleep?" L shrugged and looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. "Well come on then. Forget your classes for now. I think by admitting your fear to me, you'll find that you'll sleep better. I'm no psychiatrist, but I'm sure opening up to me counts for a lot."

Somehow or another, Light talked himself into staying in L's dorm with him, just until L fell asleep. Somehow, Light found himself sitting on L's bed, and then next to L's drowsy form, and then finally, wrapping his arms around the thin frame that was to his left. And somehow, later on in the night when there was no sign of L's roommate, their mouths met in a clashing of lips and tongue, of heat and pulsing energy.

The door was locked, clothing was shed, and there was nothing superficial about the way that they made love. With the way that their bodies glided together, meshing like gears that would serve a higher function, they knew completion. Lips met a panting mouth, fingertips caressed what would never go untouched again, and there was nothing silent about the way they lost themselves to the physical poignancy of making love for the first time. This was not about coming together out of comfort, out of some carnal and primal need for intimacy or connection. This was about past exoneration that caught up to the both of them, deep underneath sleep-tossed covers and the faint moonlight from the window. For, as they tasted one another's lips, breathed one another's names, and closed their eyes to the building passions, they knew what they had done before to each other and they were determined never to repeat it. Sadly however, that volition was lost upon the waking hour, along with any hint of memory.

There was nothing awkward about the morning after, the month after, or the two years afterwards. In that entire time, both L and Light stayed together, uncaring of any consequence that would be the cause of it. Light told his parents and weeks later, Watari was informed. Instead of the typical anger and disgust that they both expected, after a lot of struggling to cope, both found themselves welcome to be together freely, without having to sneak around or rent motel rooms for the evening. A higher power was keeping them together, of that the both of them were certain of. If they had managed to meet twice before, the third time would not only be the charm, but the very stitching that kept them together.

However, there was always something strange about the times that they chose to make love. It only happened a few times, but neither could recall that it actually happened, or that they were in their right frame of mind. In their moments of shared intimacy and confession, both of them felt that they were being watched. Not by cameras or by hidden pairs of eyes in the walls, but by something else, by something more Divine and judgmental. Their eyes were not on God, but the shadows, watching with scrutiny as they exchanged pillow-talk.

There seemed to be something in the room with them, and often times, many somethings. Sometimes it felt like an audience was judging them as they paraded around a stage, speaking and going about their lives as they normally would. The scrutiny of this audience was many a terrible thing.

Once, when L was fast asleep on Light's neck, Light nearly sat bolt upright in bed when he glimpsed a pair of red, glittering eyes across the room. Just as quickly as it came, the vision was gone and with it the horrific after image: a clown-face, bereft of a nose and the biggest mouth Light had ever bore witness to.

Later on, Light told L about what he had seen - or thought he had seen - and L looked up at him, almost as if he were in shock. For a moment, it was as if L had remembered something important, something that was as significant as life or death. It was the look they sometimes shared in bed, memories so intense, that they felt as if they came from another place and time, if not another life. The spark of recollection died down, and a calm settled over his lover's features.

"It was just a dream. It won't hurt us."

And dream they did. Sometimes, L found himself trembling with a cold sweat, recalling fragments of what his mind conjured up. He saw himself standing over a bloodied Light, a Light that was thrown against a stair-way, all the while endless laughter poured from his lips. He always woke up from such visions and wondered just where they were coming from, just why his mind was plagued with such senseless imagery. He had read every book and even enlisted the help of a therapist to soothe his nerves. It was always the same theory: a loss of control, a need to gain control over some aspect of his life, a part of his subconscious trying to attach itself to a new idea...on and on, over and over.

Light also experienced something similar, something that was nowhere near as troubling, but still scared him all the same. Light felt a phantom ache in his hands, one that was a tingling sensation of a yearning to write, of fingertips that itched for paper to scrawl on, of fingers that needed the weight of a writing utensil. It happened in both of his hands, a burning that traveled all the way up his arms, leaving him panting into the night, all the while gripping the sheets, and then his lover's reassuring hands. They both had to work through something, something that was beyond their control.

There was a truth that they faced later on, one that both frightened them to no end and reaffirmed their love for one another: there was no longer any doubt that they had met before, in another place and time. Uncaring of physics, of faith and any religion, they believed this to be fact. They didn't believe in rebirth, in reincarnation and all of the insanity that came with it. What they did know was, that there were memories that were beginning to reveal themselves, facets of each other that were starting to come to light like the glittering of a diamond against whittled coal, and that there was no keeping the other from the truth. Both were responsible, in some form and shape, for the other's misery in their past life, in their "other state" as L had called it.

It was as if a back-drop of a play had changed suddenly, and every part had been changed, from the costumes to the lighting. Once, they were cast into a tragedy. This time, they promised themselves things would be better, they promised each other that the outcome would be different, no matter past sins and seemingly unbearable crimes.

"Let's remedy the situation," Light breathed into L's ear one morning. "I'll do my best to make it better."

And it did become better, after all. Light became one of the best lawyers in the whole of Japan and L's suspicious nature went to good use. He became one of the top investigative journalists and always revealed the truth, by his gathering of evidence and the persistence to get to the truth.

Their different line of work should have separated them, diverging them from being at one another's sides. But it didn't. No natter how busy they were, they always gravitated towards each other. L told him excitedly about the numerous clues, all the while massaging Light's back after a long day in the courtroom, and Light always carried L to their shared bedroom when he passed out amidst a mountain of his own work.

They slept peacefully together and after a few years, the nightmares and strange visions went away altogether. They had won.

A sound always managed to bleed through into the pocket of their dreams, a sound that came close to rousing them from slumber: the sound of applause. It was loud and thundering, all for their lives and performance.

In a different world, L had been wrong about one thing: the thought of a second chance. In this world, L smiled at that fact, deep in his sleep, as he shared a lucid night with Light, vindicated from what had once become of their lives.

It was no dance of deceit any longer, a frantic symbiosis that fooled everyone but those involved. And because of that truth, the applause rang out, and roses rained from the skies, hitting the polished wooden boards of the stage.

From this point, the curtain could now close after the final act.

_The End_


End file.
